When Mom fell ill, my sister suddenly became the perfect daughter. She moved in with Mom and kept me away, claiming she was taking care of everything. But I knew my sister too well. Her motives were never pure. I couldn’t stop her, but everything changed when the doctor gave me Mom’s final note.
I never understood how such different children could grow up in the same family. Not until my sister and I became adults. Our mom raised us by herself, and the older I got, the more I realized how hard it was for her.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
I remember the tiny apartment we lived in when I was little. It was always cold in the winter, and I could hear the wind whistling through the cracks in the windows. Mom worked two jobs just to keep a roof over our heads, but it was never enough.
Sometimes, there wasn’t much food in the house. I still remember the nights when our neighbor, Mrs. Jenkins, brought us dinner.
She would kindly smile as she handed over a steaming pot of soup or a plate of pasta.
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I didn’t understand back then how much it meant. I only knew that I wasn’t hungry anymore.
But I noticed how Mom never ate with us. She would sit quietly, pretending she wasn’t hungry, but I knew the truth.
She gave everything she had to us. Over time, though, things got better. Mom found a better job, and slowly, we climbed out of poverty.
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She saved enough to move us into a nicer house, and eventually, Samira and I went to college.
But Samira didn’t remember those hard times the way I did. She was too young to understand the struggles Mom faced.
Maybe that’s why she turned out the way she did. How should I put it? A little selfish and carefree.
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Even after she finished college, she didn’t want to work. She kept asking Mom for money and spent it like it would never run out.
But things took a turn for the worse. One day, Mom called me and asked me to come over.
“Is everything okay?” I asked.
“Yes, yes, I just need to talk to you,” Mom replied.
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Her words echoed in my head as I drove to her house after work. I felt uneasy. Mom never called me like that. When I arrived, the front door was open, so I walked in.
“Mom?” I called out.
“I’m in the kitchen, honey,” she called back.
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I walked in and saw her sitting at the table with a cup of tea. Her hands rested on the table, but they looked tired. Her eyes, usually bright, seemed dull.
“What happened? What did you want to talk about?” I asked as I sat down.
Mom took a deep breath. “I went to the doctor today. Unfortunately, I have bad news,” she said softly.
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My heart pounded. “Why? What’s wrong?”
“My heart,” Mom said quietly. “They gave me a year, at best.”
The words hit me like a brick. “Isn’t there anything that can be done? I’ll pay whatever it takes, just tell me,” I said, my voice shaking.
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“A year is the most I’ll get with treatment. Without it, I might not even make it two months,” Mom said.
“No, no, this can’t be true,” I whispered. Tears filled my eyes.
“But it’s true,” Mom said. “It looks like all the stress and overwork didn’t do me any good.”
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I couldn’t hold back, so I moved closer and hugged her. “We’ll get through this, Mom. I’ll be here with you.”
“I know,” Mom said softly, stroking my hair like she used to when I was little. “Just don’t tell Samira anything for now.”
“Why not? She’ll keep asking you for money when you need it for treatment,” I said.
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“She’s living off her new boyfriend right now, so we can be calm for a while,” Mom replied.
I shook my head. “This is wrong.”
“I’ll tell her myself when the time is right,” Mom said.
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Mom told Samira everything a month after our conversation. Samira had come over to ask for money again after breaking up with her boyfriend.
After talking to Mom, Samira came straight to me. She didn’t even knock. She walked in like she owned the place and sat on my couch.
“I don’t want you visiting Mom,” Samira said.
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“Are you out of your mind? Mom is sick. I’ll visit her. Someone needs to help her,” I said. I couldn’t believe she was saying this.
“I know why you’re so concerned about her — to get all her inheritance for yourself. But that won’t happen,” Samira said.
“Are you serious? I don’t care about the money. I want to help Mom,” I said. “Or are you judging everyone by yourself?”
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Samira rolled her eyes. “I know that’s not true. Mom always loved me more because she gave me more money. So now, you want to get something after she’s gone,” she said.
“That’s so stupid if that’s really what you think. I’ll keep visiting Mom. Someone needs to help her,” I said firmly.
“Don’t worry about that. I’ve already planned everything. I’m moving in with Mom and taking care of her,” Samira said.
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“You? Since when are you so caring? You’ve never cared about anyone but yourself,” I said.
“That’s not true. I’ve always cared about Mom, and now she needs me. So don’t even try coming over. I won’t let you in,” Samira said.
She stood up, grabbed her bag, and left without another word. I stared at the door after she was gone.
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I couldn’t believe how selfish Samira was. I knew she was doing it for herself. Only for herself.
But as it turned out, she wasn’t joking. Samira didn’t let me see Mom, always coming up with excuses like, “Mom is sleeping,” “Mom doesn’t feel well,” or “Mom went to the doctor.”
So, I texted Mom and asked her to let me know when Samira wouldn’t be home so I could visit.
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One afternoon, Mom texted that Samira had gone to the mall and I could come over. I stopped by the grocery store to get some supplies and headed straight to Mom’s.
When I arrived, Mom was lying on the couch, watching TV. She looked tired, but her eyes lit up when she saw me.
“How are you feeling?” I asked as I stepped closer.
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“Not too bad. I’m managing,” Mom said with a weak smile.
“I brought you some groceries,” I said, placing the bag on the floor. “I got your favorite tea and some fresh fruit.”
“Thank you, honey,” Mom said, but her face grew serious. “Why haven’t you been visiting me? Samira said you didn’t want to because I’d become a burden.”
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My heart stopped. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “She said what?!” I was outraged. “I didn’t come because Samira wouldn’t let me. She always had an excuse. As soon as I had the chance, I came,” I said.
“I see,” Mom replied.
“How is it with Samira? Does she help?” I asked.
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“Yes, yes. She’s by my side almost all the time. She cooks, cleans, and brings me medicine,” Mom said. “I think my illness has changed her for the better,” she added.
“Yeah, right,” I muttered under my breath. “And do you have enough money?” I asked, trying to change the subject.
“For now, yes, although Samira spends a lot. I’m afraid we won’t have enough for the medicine soon,” Mom said, her voice filled with concern.
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“Don’t worry about that. I’ll talk to the doctor and take care of everything,” I said firmly.
“Alright, thank you,” Mom said with a tired smile.
I stayed with her for a while longer. We talked about small things. I didn’t want to leave, but Mom said she was tired and wanted to go to bed. I helped her to her room, guiding her gently.
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“Nicole,” Mom softly said when she lay down. “I’ve lived a long life, and I understand everything.”
I just nodded. Her words didn’t make sense to me, but I thought she was just tired.
I put away the groceries and quietly left. But I didn’t go home. I couldn’t. I drove straight to the hospital.
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I knocked on Dr. Miller’s office door, and after hearing, “Come in!” I entered.
“Hello, I’m the daughter of one of your patients, Martha…”
“Oh, you must be Nicole,” said Dr. Miller, not even letting me finish Mom’s full name. “Have a seat. Martha talked a lot about you.”
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I sat down across from Dr. Miller. “I want to talk about Mom’s treatment. From now on, send all the bills to me, for anything,” I said.
“I thought Samira was paying for everything,” Dr. Miller said, his eyebrows raised.
“Yes, with Mom’s money, but she spends a lot too. I don’t want Mom worrying about finances,” I said.
“Alright, we can arrange that,” Dr. Miller said with a nod.
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I felt some relief knowing I could finally help Mom without interference. But I knew this was just the beginning.
When I started receiving the hospital bills, I was shocked by the amounts. Each bill was higher than I expected.
I couldn’t believe Mom had enough money for all of it, considering how much Samira was spending.
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I wondered where the money was coming from. I knew Mom’s savings were running low.
With each passing month, Mom’s condition worsened. Her strength faded, and she spent more time in bed.
She had to be hospitalized, and I was finally able to visit her whenever I wanted. Samira couldn’t stop me from going to the hospital.
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I spent every evening by Mom’s side. I read to her, held her hand, and made sure she was comfortable.
Samira watched me with resentment. Trying to win Mom’s attention, she practically moved into the hospital and never left her side. But I knew her reasons were not pure.
One evening, Samira came up to me while I was sitting with Mom. Her expression was serious.
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“Can we talk?” she asked.
I followed her into the hallway. I crossed my arms and waited.
“Look, Mom’s money is running out. I don’t know how much longer it’ll last,” Samira said. She avoided my eyes.
“I’m paying all the medical bills. How can the money be gone?” I asked.
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“Well, there are other expenses too. Groceries, utilities… I need money to live too,” Samira said. Her voice was softer now, almost like she was trying to make me feel guilty.
“That’s the problem,” I said firmly. “You spend it all on yourself. I’m not going to support you.” I turned and went back into Mom’s room.
A few days after that conversation, I got a call from the hospital. My heart sank as I answered. Mom was gone.
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I was devastated. I rushed to the hospital, my hands trembling. When I arrived, Samira and her lawyer were already there.
“Since I took care of Mom, all the inheritance goes to me,” Samira said instead of greeting me. Then, her lawyer handed me a will.
I shoved the will back into his hands. “Mom just died, and you’re thinking about money?!” I yelled at Samira.
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“I don’t want any conflicts later,” she said, her tone flat.
“You’re unbelievable,” I said and walked away.
I went straight to Dr. Miller’s office. As soon as he saw me, his serious expression softened.
“I’m so sorry. Your mother loved you more than anyone,” he said gently.
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“Thank you,” I replied, barely holding back tears.
“Before she passed, your mom gave me something to give you,” Dr. Miller said. He took an envelope out of his drawer and handed it to me. Mom’s handwriting on the envelope read: “For My True Daughter.”
“Do you mind if I step outside to read this?” I asked.
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I stepped out of his office and sat on one of the chairs in the hallway. My hands were shaking as I held the envelope.
I took a deep breath and opened it. Inside was a will. I read through it carefully, and my heart pounded.
It was more recent than the one Samira had, and it was valid. Mom had left everything to me.
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There was also an account I didn’t know about. The balance was more than I had ever imagined. She had thought of everything.
A small note was attached to the will. I recognized Mom’s handwriting instantly.
I told you I understand everything. I can see real care and distinguish it from selfish motives. That’s why I’m leaving everything to you, Nicole.
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I hope you keep that kindness and humanity in your heart. I love you, Mom.
Tears filled my eyes as I read her words. I covered my face and cried. Even after her death, Mom had protected me.
I felt a wave of gratitude. I didn’t know what lay ahead, but I was certain I would honor Mom’s memory. I would live how she had lived — with love, kindness, and strength.
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My neighbor frequently asked me to babysit her child, but when I asked her to watch mine just once, she declined — so I came up with a creative solution
My entitled neighbor expected free babysitting for months, but the one time I needed her? Radio silence. That’s when I realized kindness has limits. So, I got a little too creative and drew the line with a twist she never saw coming.
Motherhood is a beautiful journey, filled with ups and downs, laughter and tears. But what happens when someone sees your maternal instincts as an opportunity to exploit? When they assume that just because you’re a stay-at-home mom, you’re available 24/7 to be their personal, unpaid nanny? Hi there, I’m Annie, and boy, do I have a story for you…
Picture this: a quaint suburban neighborhood where tranquility reigns supreme. You know the kind? Pristine lawns, friendly waves from passing cars, and block parties that wrap up by 9 p.m. sharp.
That was my slice of paradise, quiet and drama-free. Until Hurricane Megan blew in next door.
From day one, Megan strutted around like she owned the place. Head held high, designer purse swinging, she was the walking definition of “extra.”
Don’t get me wrong. I’ve got nothing but respect for single moms. It’s a tough gig. But Megan? She wore her single mom status like a badge that entitled her to everyone’s time and energy. Especially mine.
Apparently, I was Megan’s personal target for FREE childcare.
“Hi there! I’m Megan,” she chirped, flashing a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “And this is my daughter, Lily.”
I bounced my son Tommy perched on my shoulder. “Nice to meet you! I’m Annie, and this little guy is Tommy.”
Megan’s eyes lit up. “Oh, you’re home during the day? That’s fantastic! I’ve been looking for someone reliable to watch Lily. My work schedule is just crazy, you know!”
I felt a twinge of unease but pushed it aside. “Well, I’m usually pretty busy with Tommy, but if you need help in an emergency, I can try.”
Megan’s smile widened. “That’s so sweet of you! I’m sure we’ll be great friends.”
As she left little Lily with me and walked away, I turned to Tommy. “Well, buddy, looks like we’ve got new neighbors. What do you think?”
Tommy gurgled and reached for my hair. If only I’d known what I was getting myself into.
Weeks rolled by and I was at my wit’s end. Megan’s “emergencies” had become a near-daily occurrence.
Despite my growing unease, I brushed it off. We moms gotta stick together, right? But one favor turned into two, then ten, and then I lost count.
The doorbell rang, and I groaned. “Tommy, want to bet who that is?”
I opened the door to find Megan, perfectly coiffed, with Lily in tow. “Annie, you’re a lifesaver! I’ve got this important meeting. You can watch Lily, right?”
I hesitated. “Megan, I’ve got a lot on my plate today and I can’t—”
“It’ll just be a few hours,” she interrupted, already ushering Lily inside. “You’re the best!”
Before I could protest, she was gone, leaving me with two kids and a growing sense of frustration.
Lily looked up at me with big eyes, holding a drawing of red and pink hearts. “Can we play dress-up, Annie?”
I sighed, forcing a smile. “Sure, sweetie. Let’s go find some costumes.”
As I watched the kids play, I couldn’t help but wonder how long I could keep this up.
Picture this: You’re knee-deep in diapers and alphabet songs, cherishing every moment with your little one. Then your neighbor knocks on the door again, flashing a smile and making the same monotonous request.
“Oh, Annie, would you be a sweetheart and babysit Lily for a few hours? I’m sure you wouldn’t mind watching her while I get my nails done.”
Spa days, shopping sprees, hair appointments… you name it, I was babysitting through it all. FOR FREE.
Now, don’t get me wrong. I love kids. But there’s a fine line between being neighborly and being a doormat. And folks, I was starting to feel like I had “Welcome” printed on my forehead.
The last straw came on a Tuesday. I was in the middle of a virtual doctor’s appointment when Megan burst in, Lily trailing behind her.
“Annie, emergency! I’ve got to run to the salon. Watch Lily, okay?”
I gaped at her, my doctor’s voice still coming through my earbuds. “Megan, I’m in the middle of—”
“Thanks, you’re a doll!” And just like that, she was gone.
I turned back to my screen, where my doctor looked confused. “Everything okay, Annie?”
I laughed humorlessly. “Just peachy. Now, where were we?”
That night, I vented to my husband, Dan. “I can’t believe her! She just assumes I’m always available.”
Dan frowned. “Honey, you need to set some boundaries. This isn’t fair to you or Tommy.”
“You’re right. Next time she asks, I’m putting my foot down.”
Little did I know, my chance would come sooner than expected.
The following week, Dan and I had a doctor’s appointment. I figured it was the perfect opportunity to ask Megan for a favor.
I knocked on her door, my hopes soaring. Megan answered, looking annoyed at the interruption.
“Hey, Megan. I hate to ask, but Dan and I have a doctor’s appointment. Could you watch Tommy for an hour? I’d really appreciate it.”
Megan’s face twisted. “Oh, Annie. I’m really not comfortable watching other people’s kids. It’s just… stressful, you know? And I need my ‘me time.’ You understand, right?”
I stood there, STUNNED. After everything I’d done for her, she couldn’t spare ONE HOUR?
“Sure! I understand completely.”
As I walked away, something inside me snapped. It was time for a little creative problem-solving.
My opportunity came a few days later when Megan knocked on my door, Lily in tow.
“Annie, I’ve got a hair appointment. You can watch Lily, right?”
I smiled sweetly. “Actually, Megan, I’m glad you’re here. I’ve been meaning to tell you about my new babysitting business.”
Her eyes lit up. “Babysitting business?”
“Yep! I figured since I’m home anyway, why not make some extra money? And since we’re neighbors, I’d be happy to give you a discounted rate.”
Megan leaned in, intrigued. “That’s amazing! How much?”
“Well, normally I’d charge $20 an hour, but for you, let’s say $15.”
Her jaw dropped. “Fifteen dollars an hour? That’s insane! I can’t afford that!”
I shrugged, feigning sympathy. “I know, childcare is so expensive these days. That’s why it’s important to find people willing to help out. Don’t you think?”
Megan’s face reddened. “I’ll figure something out.”
As she stormed off, I couldn’t help but feel a twinge of satisfaction. The tables had finally turned.
Over the next few weeks, I fully embraced my role as a “professional” babysitter. Every time Megan asked for a favor, I responded with mock invoices and rate sheets.
One afternoon, she came to pick up Lily ten minutes late. I greeted her with a smile and a piece of paper.
“Here’s your invoice, Megan. Don’t forget the late pick-up fee!”
She snatched the paper, her face contorting with rage. “This is ridiculous! You’re nothing but a greedy witch!”
I raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”
“You have no right to charge me after all the times I’ve done favors for you!”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “FAVORS? Like the time I asked you to watch Tommy for one hour and you said you weren’t comfortable watching other people’s kids?”
“That’s… that’s different! I’m a single mom. I’m busy!”
“And I’m a stay-at-home mom running a business,” I countered. “We’re all busy, Megan.”
She grabbed Lily’s hand and stormed off, leaving me feeling both guilty and oddly empowered.
Word of my “babysitting business” spread quickly through the neighborhood. I hadn’t planned on it, but soon other moms came to me with their Megan stories.
Chelsea, another neighbor, caught me at the mailbox. “Annie, you’re a genius! I started charging Megan too, and suddenly she stopped asking me to watch Lily.”
I laughed. “Really? I thought I was the only one.”
Chelsea shook her head. “Oh no, she’s been trying this with everyone. But now? She can’t find anyone to help her for free anymore.”
As we chatted, I saw Megan pull into her driveway. She glared at us before slamming her car door and stomping inside.
I turned to Chelsea. “I almost feel bad.”
“Don’t! She needed to learn she can’t take advantage of people.”
I nodded, watching Megan’s house. “I guess you’re right.”
Weeks passed, and I hardly saw Megan anymore. The constant knocking had stopped, and an eerie quiet settled over our little corner of the neighborhood.
One evening, as I was watering my front garden, I saw her struggling with groceries. For a moment, I considered offering help. Then I remembered all the times she’d left me in the lurch.
“Some people need to carry the heavy weight of their actions!” I muttered and turned around, ignoring her.
Megan soon found herself in a bind. Every time she asked for help babysitting, she was met with either a rate card or a “Sorry, I’m just too busy!”
Frustrated, she realized she couldn’t rely on “FREE” favors anymore and had to pay for a professional sitter.
So, there you have it, folks. Was it petty? Perhaps a bit. Was it satisfying? Absolutely! But sometimes, the best revenge is learning to communicate effectively and set healthy boundaries. Have you ever dealt with an entitled neighbor? How did you handle the situation? Share your stories in the comments!
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